Year 1599- Hyogo Prefecture
Reining in his spirited blood as he was overwhelmed with elation, a sharp contrast to the dead silent crowd who were beyond shocked… Takezo retook a straight posture, swinging the blood off, as he retracted his blade into its sheath in a sublime manner.
Once again, he had reaffirmed himself before their eyes as the number one genius in the whole of Japan, just like three years ago when he had slain the raising swordsman Arima Kihei who had excellent mastery of the Kashima Shinto-ryu sword style.
'Three years… It has been three years since then huh?' Similarly in a wistful state, their thoughts resonating, Flynn thought back to that fateful day as he watched the expression of the gathered crowd who looked like they had witnessed something completely unbelievable, which wasn't unfounded.
Sure, Takezo had defeated a rising Swordsman, and it could be said that his opponent had severely underestimated him. Not being guarded enough or was lacking in awareness, which then led to his death…
But then, the same kid after three years, just three years, turned out to be more monstrous than they had thought or heard. Tearing apart the logic they built up in their head to confine his monstrosity to the norm, and unveiling himself in a new light.
What could they say this time, what reason could they give.
Just three years after, the young boy had faced off against a True Samurai with veteran experience and won.
Could it be believed? But the cold corpse of the imposing man was before their eyes
…
Battle Of Sekigahara
Amidst the echoing clang of swords, raging flames and smoked flesh.
A mayhem of blood and slaughter enfolded. Thrusting into each other as they plugged their guts out…
Observing the carnage with the brief moments he had as he swung his blades. Soaked in the blood of his enemies. Unable to distinguish between what was real and what wasn't . Flynn could barely comprehend if he was him or him was him. He felt pain, he felt tired, his muscles squirmed in exhaustion but he kept on with the same cold, ruthless look in his eyes.
Compared to the days he had spent training this was nothing and he could still go in full throttle for another hour or so …
But for Flynn it felt totally different, hearing these thoughts he wanted to curse out loud but couldn't.
'Are these my thoughts?' he thought in confusion, asking himself.
'Yes, dangers'. Then it occurred to him, a far distant memory of his past life.
'Am I having an identity disorder?'
He thought, muddled as he was, completely confused and fatigued, Flynn was finally able to grasp some piece of his true memories.
This wasn't him and he was only here into a forgotten past to transcend his Tribulation.
'But wasn't it just a slight prick in the beginning, why does everything feel so real now?' sensing the several intense emotions that were transferred into his subconsciousness , Flynn couldn't hold it any longer and finally lost it…
…
Four years later, he had his fourth duel…
Fifth duel…
His second battle…
Lost, unable to confront his thoughts about who he was, Flynn lived his life as a known swordsman throughout Japan, and had founded his own sword style, established his belief, and perfected the art of killing.
Bound by his own belief he neither chose to marry and also forsook his inheritance to his sister, living his life for the sword, unrestrained or fettered by emotional chains or longing.
He had participated in a fair share of bloodshed, acquired titles, becoming a Lord… but he hadn't lost sight of his goal. Something so grand and minuscule at the same time, that only a hazy shadow of it could be seen through the clouds.
"Who am I?"Looking at the deserted night sky of stars, Fynn heaved a heavy sigh, now known as Miyamoto Musashi, his brows raised in incredulity, the two thoughts in his head indistinguishable as usual, why the other one told him that he was not him, there was the second which only focused on his hazy goal. A personality disorder he had kept hidden for years.
"Well… there's nothing more to offer or is there?" he questioned the night sky, resting his hands on his swords hilt as he sighed one more time, revealing a resolute expression as he turned back.
"It's time then"
…
Right from the day he was born he had always wanted to create his own path, a separate one from everybody else, he didn't just want to be different, he wanted to be something more, something he couldn't quite grasp but felt, there was no existing term to describe this feeling but the notion had always existed in his heart.
Which other kid would accept being taken to the mountain without making a scene, he had thought so and did just that.
As an able scion which other kids would commit their heart to training at such age, they would try skip classes instead, feeling lazy about menial stuff until they were ordered to do it . Then waiting to the age of 16 or 17 to form their sword skills.
Such a life, lived by plenty other kids wasn't what he wanted to.
So he chose to act against the flow in situations he could. And this mindset, blessed with a sharp mind, had led him to where he was today.
Would he have made it this far, if he had wielded just one sword, wouldn't be then just another remarkable swordsman with so few having appeared across history.
At first called a Defiant on the path of swordsmanship, he did not only prove them wrong and shut them into silence with his skills, he also revealed to them how stupid they had been to bear just one sword.
"Why one sword when you have two swords?" His voice had shaken them after watching him flawlessly reap heads with both blades.
And then what would one expect such an established figure to do,
Probably get married, have kids, bask in the glory of their achievement and leave a sound life ruling their given territory alongside their family.